Spectre
by Kinda-Mayvelle
Summary: TP Once upon a time, a Hero arose during Hyrule's darkest hours. Taking up the legendary blade, he made to seal away the shadow consuming the dying land. But Time itself, undone by his deeds is against him, and only the foolhardy favor the brave.
1. Prologue:  Memories of Dust

**Spectre**

_A Twilight Princess Fanfiction_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP, or Zelda, for that matter._

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_'Once upon a time, a Hero arose in the darkest hours of Hyrule's history. Taking up the legendary blade, the bane of evil, he made to seal away the shadow that cast itself over the land. None could have known, however, the terrible effects the sword's freedom could have wreaked upon the realm. Now, that same Hero must set out once more; for Hyrule, for the very streams of Time themselves, and for personal retribution. But Time itself, undone by his deeds is against him, and only the foolhardy favor the brave.'_

_Chronicles of Hyrule, circa 139: Court Advisor to Queen Zelda Hyrule XII_

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**Prologue: Memories of Dust**

* * *

_Hyrule was beautiful at night. Stars lit overhead and the grass rolled in sweeping green waves darkened by the evening, though the green was fading to brown. A chirp cut through the air from a small smattering of brush beneath a tall oak tree, and with a grunt Link rolled over onto his side, pulling the lip of his cap further down upon his eyes. The frosty ground beneath him was hard and most definitely uncomfortable, but he made himself deal with it. It was a cool time in the country, autumn coming on swift and chilly from the mountains. Midna lay curled in his shadow for warmth, but that wouldn't change the fact they were both freezing. This particular stretch of Hyrule Field was completely without the grass he would normally utilize to call upon Epona, who held most of his sleeping gear within her saddlebags. Thus, they were both forced to go with little to nothing in the way of camp material; only a very thin blanket draped over Link's form to be found._

_Link heard Midna grumble close by his ear. Of course, she wasn't close by his ear, but it always sounded that way when she spoke to him from the shadow; no matter if she were pooling about his feet, lulled to sleepiness by the rhythmic pounding of his boots on the earth. She wasn't getting any sleep, either. A shiver ran up his spine, and with a hand, still gloved despite his attempts to sleep pulling the blanket up a little higher to his shoulders. The well-worn soles of his leather boots peeked out from under the rough material, and he curled up a bit to pull them back under._

"_Midna?" He inquired softly into the cool night air, breath forming a vaporous cloud before his lips._

_She shifted close to his face. "What?" She sounded both irritated and relieved, as if she was upset he had disturbed her attempts at sleep, yet glad that he had broken the suffocating silence around both of them._

"_Think you can do something about the cold with your magic?" He knew it was useless to ask; knew it would probably just rouse her temper, shortened by less success in hunting than usual and the icy breeze. There was nothing she could do with her magic that she hadn't done already, which was nothing at all. He waited for the inevitable snap to crackle across his face, his ears, waited for the sharp reprimand that was sure to come._

_Instead, there was a sigh. "I'm sorry, Link. I can't do anything." He received the most vague impression she had snuggled closer to his shoulder for heat._

_Shocked at the apology, the first he had ever received from her, Link fell silent. But despite the freezing wind, despite the frigid earth and grass seeping chilly through his tunic to stab at his skin, he felt the air had grown a little bit warmer._

"Link?"

Blue eyes snapped open, startled and sharp. They darted around, searching for the source of the voice, to see how close it was to him. He sat atop a gently rolling hill, though even the unworldliest denizen could hardly call the slight swell of the ground a hill.

A hand at his shoulder jerked him in surprise, and Fado pulled his hand back gingerly, all too aware of the hunting gaze directed at him.

"You all right there, Link? You were spacing out a bit for a while."

Link shivered and shook his hands, glad for the warm gloves encasing them. They looked terribly out of place with his hand-sewn farm clothes, the worked leather contrasting sharply with the stained, aged linen. He looked about, noting that the goats were still yet in the field munching away on grass; some in small knots and still others off on their own; solitary.

He took a deep breath and levered himself to his feet. The sandals that he was both at home with and alienated from did little to shield the sides of his feet from the tickling grass, but he pushed the sensation away with long practice. It disturbed him that he felt foreign to them, six months after his return to Ordon after nearing twice as many months away. He had spent his whole life up until that point wearing one form of sandal or another, after all.

"I'm fine. Just…I'm fine. Just thinking."

Fado looked at him strangely, one hand wrapped tight around the reins of Epona's mouthpiece. Slowly he nodded, though his gaze never left the wearied lines of the blond's visage. Concern writ its own lines on his face.

"Alright," He acceded. Epona tossed her head, perhaps sensing the hidden turmoil seething within her master, and Fado gingerly quieted her with a pat on her muzzle. "It's getting late. The goats need to be wrangled in."

Link looked around, noting for the first time the dying rays of the sun peeking futilely off the mountains in the far distance. The land was bathed in orange and red, the brown of autumn a still sea beneath. The grass felt dry and dead on his toes. He took Epona's reins from Fado, grimacing to himself as the man stepped away. Fado was eyeing him as if expecting him to pop, or do something completely irrational like break down. He couldn't possibly look _that_ bad; a little sleep lost only brought slight bags to his eyes. Nothing drastic.

He mounted the mare, feeling infinitely more comfortable in the high-cantled saddle than he did upon the ground. He offered a smile to Fado, hoping to reassure him—and send him away at the same time. It worked; Fado left him be, moving instead to unlock the gates to the goats' pen, preparing for Link to herd them in.

The task took no more than a few minutes; years of riding on horseback and deftly maneuvering Epona through the throngs of goats showed itself in the flow of her hooves, the ease with which he drove one goat, solitary in the corner of the pen charging for cover within a thick pack not fifteen feet away. Its sudden appearance startled the rest, but Link cut around them from behind, forcing them, leaving them but the one choice of rushing to the open gates of the building.

Fado hailed him jubilantly as he swiftly shut the gates, ignoring the braying issuing at him from behind the wood. He smiled up at Link, concern over his partner's emotional state temporarily forgotten in the normalcy of their routine.

"Great riding! Do you think I could have a go on her?"

Link smiled despite himself, a slight shake of his head his answer. Fado's face fell but he waved the blond on, telling him he'd better hurry—there wasn't much daylight left in the day by which to bathe the horse. Some things never changed.

* * *

Riding through the village on his way to the Spring, Link found himself gazing around the wooden lodgings that made up the area. Folk whom he grew up with waved at him, calling enthusiastic greetings as the day neared its end. Uli acknowledged him from the riverside, where she had taken to sitting with the cradle containing her seven month-old baby girl. She rocked the cradle carefully and slowly, humming under her breath a lullaby. She smiled at Link as he passed, and he turned away after giving one in kind. He remembered all too keenly her and Rusl both trying to name him godfather, even though she had been born a month before he had returned to the village. He hadn't even been there when she came into the world, he'd argued, and so didn't feel right accepting the honor. 

Uli wasn't the only one to address him on the winding path back to his home, and beyond, the Spring. Talo and Beth were near her mother's shop, sitting in the shade; Malo was nowhere to be seen, and even as Link rode past them (quickening Epona's pace to a trot) he found this unusual. They both had half-risen from their lazy perches, eager expressions devouring their features, but Link swiftly waved them down. He didn't have the energy to deal with either of them right now. Beth's father nodded in his direction as he passed, the last person to take note of his retirement before the deep shade of the trees enveloped him.

Maybe his geographical separation from the rest of the village had enforced his recent need for privacy and solitude, but at least the edge of the forest was soothing. Here the slight hustle and bustle of the village faded within the chirping of late afternoon birds, the rustle of leaves as a breeze swept by and the crunch of freshly fallen leaves beneath Epona's hooves. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to bask in the sudden, relative quiet: breathing in, slow and deep. Epona snorted and tossed her head slightly, pale mane flying about her neck. Link patted her affably.

"Almost there," He muttered fondly. He swung down from her saddle after a moment, taking her by the bridle to lead her further into the wood. It wasn't that she didn't know the way, but Link had forever been iffy on leaving her alone since his days of adventuring; it had been Ilia's spiriting her away that led to them.

He cringed at that thought, hurriedly shutting the floodgates in his mind. He always had to be careful; even the barest reminisce of six months ago was enough to have images and voices flash through his mind faster than he could rid himself of them, melting in a cacophony of emotions, horrors and cold nights. He had already determined to forget it; dwelling upon the impossible had done him no good in the days following _that_, and it was a harsh lesson to learn, but one he mastered with a ferocity that stunned even him.

The Spring was glistening beautifully in the pre-dusk light remaining, and Link settled about ridding her of the saddle. The burdens fell to the ground with as much care as Link could make himself afford them, the mouthpiece the last to go. Epona neighed at him.

"Good girl. Let's get you cleaned up…"

The water felt good on his bare skin, gloves abandoned on the shore. He had sweated in them terribly all day, but Link could never really bring himself to doff them, save for washing. He had just grown too used to wearing them for that to happen.

A thin cake of yellow soap—specially developed for horseflesh—in hand, he began to scrub her down, taking particular care with the areas around her hooves and flanks. Tics liked to gather there. It was his last bar, purchased on his final visit to Castle Town; he'd need to buy more soon.

Link grimaced as the slick bar slipped from his wet hand, and he bent to retrieve it. As he reached for the soap, though, a slight flicker of motion caught from the reflection cast by the water behind him drew his attention. His eyes snapped to them with intensity, but he deliberately kept his movements casual, plucking the bar from the sudsy water. He slowly straightened, and before the splash of water announcing his stalker's approach reached his ears he had whirled about, left hand subconsciously reaching over his shoulder to grasp air.

He blanched in horror and recognition of the action, even as his eyes landed on the source of the Spring's disturbance. Ilia stood watching him with a blend of caution and surprise.

"I didn't think you'd see me," She said, after the silence had dragged on between them for several heartbeats. Link sighed, letting his hand fall back to his side. That had been too close: if he really did still have a weapon to draw…

He shivered ever so slightly, but managed to convince himself it was the chill of the liquid seeping between his toes and not his thoughts. He managed a smile.

"I, ah, saw your reflection in the water." That wouldn't explain his bizarre reaction, though. He didn't realize he had been holding his breath until Ilia nodded her acceptance, her own countenance brightening.

"I thought you'd be here. You've been taking such good care of Epona lately." She moved forward, bare feet sweeping receding furrows in the water. Epona allowed her to pat her muzzle, and Ilia turned to Link. The scene struck a chord in him, and a half-formed memory flitted through his mind before he could stop himself—

_Ilia smiled at him, absently stroking Epona's muzzle. The twilight played on her hair, highlighting the short strands gold. He had never realized how pretty she was before, even as he felt himself flush in embarrassment at the thought. Still, he couldn't stop smiling at her; Colin might as well not have existed, for all he stood there watching the scene in his youthful awkwardness. Silence lay thick on the Spring, and Link felt it could go on forever._

_They didn't have forever, and even as the gates barring the Spring from the rest of the forest splintered open in a shower of wood shavings he knew something was wrong._

"…nk?"

"Huh?"

Ilia frowned at him, an odd expression pulling at her normally quaint features. "Are…Are you okay? You…don't look so good."

Link started with awareness. His hand had once again moved to hover over his shoulder, and his whole body tensed, coiled like a snake awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike. Even his face felt pinched in concentration on the illusion.

He forced himself to relax. His hand he yanked before him, grasping the rebellious appendage with the other; he absently rubbed at where the Triforce piece had once glowed. "I'm fine. I haven't…been getting much sleep lately. That's all."

The small, somewhat frightened gleam faded from her green eyes, and she allowed herself a tentative smile. "You really should look after yourself better. Taking care of Epona doesn't mean you can neglect yourself!" Instantly she had recovered herself, hands planted on hips as she surveyed him from top to toe.

He shifted, uncomfortable with her close scrutiny. He wasn't _neglecting_ himself…But what good was arguing? He had never managed to win once. He had almost as much trouble with Ilia as with—

He bit his tongue, stilling all thoughts crossing his mind. No. No, he wouldn't think on that. He wouldn't let it haunt him. He wouldn't! It was bad enough his thoughts had strayed into the whirlpool of memories earlier at the ranch.

He didn't realize she had moved until the splash of water sifted into his ears. He whipped his head to the side, watching as she clambered out of the pool. She was already toeing her sandals back on.

"Get some sleep tonight, and make sure you eat something, too. You look too thin."

With that, she was gone. Link stared after her for a few moments, unconsciously flexing his sword hand. Epona neighed at him, irritated at his continued negligence of her care. He jumped, and gave her a sheepish grin. He still held all thoughts immobile in his head.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming…"

He finished her bath slowly, though a part of him demanded he hurry with the task. He adamantly ignored that part of his brain, scrubbing her coat with a deliberate firmness. Once he scrubbed too hard in his desperation to keep unwanted thoughts from flooding him, and Epona pulled away with displeasure.

By the end of it he was thoroughly disgusted with himself. Re-saddling Epona, he took her by the reins and began to make his way home. By this time almost all light had faded; twilight had descended on the land, a thick veil of utter silence. Silence he liked, most of the time. Not tonight, though: silence was no guard against the whims of his mind to take wild flights of fancy into the past.

He had once loved the Twilight. He wasn't sure he did anymore.

* * *

**A/N: You remember that story I mentioned in passing at the end of Not So Obedient? Yeah…this is it; or the prologue, anyways. A note for all who intend to read: this story definitely isn't top priority, so if I don't update for a long while, you'll now know why. Still, though, I've wanted to write this, and now seemed as good a time as any to type it up.**

**Critique welcome; I'm entirely unused to writing the Ordonian folk, Ilia included, so some pointers on their characters would be nice.**

**And Midna/Link? Maybe… :)**


	2. The Dead and the Dying

**Spectre**

_A Twilight Princess Fanfiction_

_Disclaimer: I don't own TP, or Zelda, for that matter._

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**Chapter One: The Dead and the Dying**

* * *

_The house was quiet. The curtains of the windows stirred in a barely tangible breeze, and the soft, humming orchestra of crickets and night birds played a soothing melody upon the air. Link lay on the floor in the corner of the home, muzzle snuggled upon outstretched paws; legs and tail curled up as if in comfort, but he shivered lightly. The night wasn't cold; but the things, the happenings, those vanished children, Ilia—'_Oh, Goddesses, Ilia!_'—And the outraged and frightened villagers… and her…_

_He jerked slightly when the echoing bang of his front door flying open thundered through his sensitive, pointed ears, and a low whine emerged before he could stop it. The echo still ringing from the door's collision with the wall drowned it out._

"_Oi, doggie, up! We need to move it, so get off your lazy, furry arse and vamoose." He cringed when the imp flew around the corner of the room's doorframe, face twisted in a sneer. "Aw, is the wittle puppy scared? Don't worry, I'll protect you!"_

_That eerie little giggle came immediately after, and Link felt his ears flatten back on his head at the sound. Unconsciously his hackles rose, and the fur along his back crested in subtle warning. She stopped laughing immediately._

"_What? Angry? Whatcha going to do, puppy dog, bite?" The brief flash of deadly, outraged incredulity vanished in a flash, replaced by mirth more insane than before. Link instinctively recoiled. What had he done to deserve this?_

_When he failed to respond appropriately she flew closer, fangs glistening in the moonlight pouring from the open window. Her toes brushed against the scabbard of the blade by his side, and it scraped a bit across the hard wooden floor. She reached with her tiny claws for one ear, gently fingering the hoop gleaming there; running fingers softly along the fur. Then, just as suddenly, she had grasped the ring and tugged harshly. A yelp tore itself from him._

"_UP, I said! Gods, how lazy are you light-dwellers?! I'm about to do a lot worse—"_

"I'm up, Midna!"

The yell, panicked and pained at the same time resonated through the empty walls of the wooden lodge. Link sat upright in his bed, cold sweat soaking his nightclothes and the sheets around him. He breathed heavily, and started at the hand outstretched before him. He slowly forced himself to lower it; bringing his other hand to brush away the hair slicking to his forehead. He rested his head against his palm. The skin of his face felt red-hot.

"Not again…" The breathy, anxious half-whisper blowing from between his lips died before it went two feet. He remained there for a few moments, motionless except for the rising and falling of his chest as his breathing returned to normal. At last, he moved. The boots at the side of his bed he abandoned, glad for the cold floorboards beneath his feet as he padded across the building.

The scraps of his dinner still lay on the scuffed table near the center of the floor; candles burned down to the wick and hardened wax sloshed over the sides of the candle-stand. The bits of rabbit meat and vegetables unfinished from his meal stuck hard and cold to the tin plate, but he ignored it as he pulled out his chair. He rested his head in his hands again, propping his bare elbows against the table. The aged wood felt rough against the flesh, but like the floorboards, it served as a nice wake-up call to his mind.

It was what he deserved, he supposed. If he hadn't drifted to dwelling on what ought not to be dwelled upon when he returned home earlier that evening he might not have had the dream again.

Again. How often had this particular dream—no, nightmare, woke him in the middle of the night? Five, he believed, though when he looked back, sometimes he had been too delirious after the dreams to make must sense of anything. The thought was almost as chilling as the memory of the time, after it first happened, he had found himself in his basement, hand on the chest latch that contained his weapons.

He shivered, half for the wintry air blowing through the open window, half for the memory itself. He was sort of glad for the cold, because the numbness was a better guard against his mind than the silence was—

Wait. Open window? He cautiously rose to his feet, eyes hard on the wooden frame set into the wall. The curtains blew lazily as the wind seeped in, bringing icy chills along with it. He didn't recall opening that window. In fact, he was dead certain it had been closed before he retired to bed.

He slowly approached, heart beating harder and faster with each step he took. As he closed in on his target his hand rose, reaching, stretching out for the windowpane. His fingers slid past the dreamily billowing folds of the curtains, and he almost breathed a sigh of relief when the wood gave easily under his fingers. The wind cut off sharply as he closed it, and the cloth settled contently upon his extended arm. He sighed in relief, the fear dying out of him.

"_Aw, is the wittle puppy scared? Don't worry, I'll protect you!_"

Link felt his heart had burst. Spinning around brought a view of an empty room, deathly still and quiet in the night. Even the moonlight sifting through the thin cloth of the drape at his back felt weak suddenly, and the shadows jumped out at his eyes.

His breath caught, eyes darting around. No. No, no, no. That was only a memory; only something the nightmare had dragged up from his subconscious and twisted almost beyond recognition. He was jumping at nothing, only at shadows.

That thought didn't make him feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse. He pushed himself from the wall, moving as quietly as he could around the room. There was nothing there. It was only his imagination. It wasn't as easy to convince himself of that as he'd thought it would be.

Adrenaline pounding nails into his brain, he thoroughly searched every square inch of his home, peering into the shadows of corners and cabinets. Once he had lost his presence of mind enough to bite out, "I know you're there you bastards—", and immediately after nearly bit his tongue in two. After that, he left the shadows well alone.

It took a long time to rummage around the chambers, but at last, with an exhausted _fwoosh_ of breath deflating his frame, he turned back to his room…then stopped dead. Eyes fastened on his target, he felt his adrenaline picking up once more as he slinked across the floor.

No. No. No, no, no, no, no… 

His hand shook as he touched the doorknob and gently pulled on the door. It opened, and the night air seeped in.

He forced himself to exhale, quaking as he stepped out onto the landing of his house. The forest around was quiet at night; even the crickets and night birds had ceased all noise. Epona lay silent upon the darkened ground, and Link had to suppress the crazy urge to bolt down and ensure she was still alive.

The forest was still. There was nothing out here, just his head playing tricks on him. Yet, he could not put himself at ease. He stayed there unmoving for a long time; staring at anything he felt might move. The sky had already started to lighten when he harkened back inside, a frantic, bitter fear welling in him like illness.

The door had been open. But there was nothing there.

* * *

"Link, where do you think you're going??"

He glanced up from saddling Epona, hands stilling on the cinches crossing her girth. He stared blankly at the children crowding around and before him.

"Yeah, Link, where? Are you going on another adventure? Let me come along!"

"No, Talo, no way! You're way too immature to go adventuring with Link. Link, how can you leave? We need you here!"

Colin stood off to the side, quiet and observing. The Ordonian Sword was strapped to his back, and he gazed with a sad certainty at the blond. Link shifted.

"None of you are coming," He broke in, perhaps a tad more harshly than he had intended. Beth and Talo were taken aback, staring at him with wide eyes. Talo held Link's old slingshot in hand; Beth a wooden belt knife fastened with a pouch around her thin waist. How any of them knew he was departing baffled him deeply; he had been up and about making preparations before first light, and had yet to enter the village at all.

"But I can help! You'll need someone with good aim to help you take down the monsters!"

Beth sniffed, a slightly haughty expression crossing her face. "If _anyone_ were to go with Link it would be Colin." She smiled over her shoulder at him, but the boy never once shifted his attention from Link. She uncertainly turned back to him.

"'None of you' means 'none of you'." The hookshot and bow were fastened under the saddle blanket securely; little doubt they'd fall off in hard riding. Everything else was in place, the little provisions he had deigned to bring with him and the camp material clanging together whenever the mare moved. An unusual silence made him turn around, and the children still stood there, but now staring with an expression reminiscent of Colin's.

"Is it really that dangerous?" Beth questioned softly. Her hands clasped tightly before her and shoulder rolling uncomfortably, Link felt a brief moment of pity for her. Talo had lowered the slingshot from where he had pointed it at a tree branch high above their heads.

"Not really, no." He couldn't bring himself to lie to them. Talo's expression shifted ever so slightly…perhaps with worry.

"Is it important?"

"Yes." Link said after a moment. He swung up into Epona's saddle, staring down at the three. His eyes traveled along the forest around them. How different it seemed in light from the night previous. "Very important."

They didn't obstruct him any longer; instead moving to the side as he heeled Epona into a trot. He was five feet from them when a tiny hand on his boot stopped him.

"I don't want you to get hurt." Colin held the sword upraised in his pudgy hands, face a grim mask of seriousness. He stubbornly offered it to Link when the blond attempted to push it away. "You have to come back. You have to come back, okay? I want that back."

Link hesitantly took it in hand, watching as Colin stepped away. The younger boy managed a buoyant smile.

"Come back!" And he walked to his friends, turning his back on Link. He continued to watch as they walked back to the village, disappearing behind the trees. He breathed deeply, laying the scabbard across the pommel of the roan's saddle.

"Let's get started, Epona."

* * *

The first leg of travel within the forest was peaceful. Link even relaxed far enough to enjoy the scenery, letting Epona pick her own way up the foot-beaten path that eventually winded up to Hyrule Field. Here or there a critter would scamper out of the bushes, and colorful wood birds twittered in the branches. A light breeze drifted in from between the trees, most going bare as autumn slowly encroached. Dead leaves crinkled under Epona's hooves, and the air smelled fresher than it had in months. It was revitalizing.

Link allowed himself a smile, rubbing gently at the base of the mare's mane. "It's nice today." Perhaps it was just him, but the utterly tranquil atmosphere was melting away the apprehension he had suffered from for the past few hours. It wasn't a pleasant sequence of events to dwell upon; Link had been unable to return to sleep after the waking nightmare that had invaded his home. Well, perhaps not a nightmare, but it was real enough to set his teeth on edge. He needed answers, and that was what he had determined to set out to do. It had been a split-second decision as he stood on his airy porch, eyeing everything that rustled in the bushes and the shadows. Still, he could hardly find a smarter course of action. If anyone would be able to help him with these happenings, it would be Zelda.

The sun was well approaching its zenith when Link closed in on the gates, bared from further passage on the part of travelers. He allowed Epona to slow to a stop as he bent over, questing through his saddlebags for the old, rusted key that opened the lock. Several times as he searched Epona neighed loudly and frisked, tossing her mane and refusing to stay still. He attempted to calm her without looking up from his task, and for a time it worked. He was rummaging through his last saddlebag, irritation pulling his face into a grimace when Epona suddenly reared, snorting heavily as she whirled about on her hind legs. Link clung tightly to the pommel of the saddle, almost thrown from her sudden and violent gyrations. He pulled taut on her reins and called for a stop, and it took many minutes for her to calm enough to cease thrashing.

Link breathed heavily upon her back, hair in disarray. He slid from her saddle, slumping in relief when solid ground greeted his feet. He had chosen to favor his old, worn leather boots for this journey. Like his gloves they seemed severely out of place among his rancher's garment, but he found they were far more comfortable and easy on the soles. He kept a solid grip on her reins, patting her soothingly on the muzzle with the other. He realized with sharp anxiety, almost panic, that this was _not_ the clearing before the gate he had stopped in.

Gnarled, twisted trees that towered out of sight surrounded him, thickly enfolded in fog that lay low to the ground. Beyond the trees he could barely make out the round, hollowed trunk of an old tree sticking out of the gloom. An eerie light shone from beyond it. He looked behind, and with a welling sense of dread found the same image behind him.

This was _not_ Faron Woods. A quiet, almost imperceptible humming reached his ears, and he looked around closely. No, this wasn't Faron Woods; it seemed a lot more like…

His eyes widened and he shook his head, dispelling the traitorous thoughts. This was almost ridiculous. This was the same as the door being opened last night, the voice from that twisted nightmare, and the one time he had seen a wolf loping through the village with his sword and shield on its back. This was worse than a trick of the imagination; now he was actually starting to _see_ things that weren't there.

He set his jaw, leading Epona forward steadfastly. She crowded closer to his back, eyes threatening to roll in fear. It put fear in him, too, seeing her like that. She had been in some really terrible places while he was her master, and she had never once balked. If this place, wherever it was—'_It's Faron Woods, Goddesses burn you for a delusional fool!_'—Was enough to send her snorting and heaving with terror…

He shivered but forced himself on, keeping his eyes locked on where he knew the gate would be. It was simply a matter of reaching it; if he reached it, and put out his hand, he'd touch it, and this whole illusion would go away.

He reached the spot, and with confidence he stuck out his hand to feel the cold metal bars that would inevitably be there—

And caught air. Alarm formed a solid lump in his throat. He waved his hand through the air, once, twice, each time growing more frantic. At last, when the swing of his arm was enough to make the air whistle, he slumped back in defeat.

This wasn't Faron Woods. And he had no idea where he was.

* * *

It had already been three days. Three days, and Link was still yet caught in this spider web of illusion. He held tightly to the belief it was an illusion; after wandering for all hours of those days, through the hollowed tree stumps that echoed back to his days of adventuring, he had found nothing. Nothing, but more hollows, more clearings that were exactly the same in appearance. He had even taken to marking each tree as he went; as he had suspected, within moving between two to four clearings, he inevitably wound up at the place where he began. He even tried going back, in the direction he had originally came from before he became caught up in this…this…whatever it was. Nothing. Nothing, but somehow walking right back into the clearing he had just left.

He had long since abandoned bashing his head against trees, hoping he could do enough damage to dispel the trick his mind's eye was playing on him. With a dwindling food stock and less water in the deerskin canteens each day, he was fast beginning to think this wasn't an illusion; that somehow, it was all very, very real.

At the moment he rested under one of those nauseatingly gnarled trees, Epona grazing two feet from him. He never let her get far, now; after once, less than a day ago she had managed to get more than five feet from him, and had disappeared almost completely into the fog. Only his swift leaping in her direction had allowed him to recover her reins. He was sure if he hadn't reacted so quickly he would never have found her again, even if they were less than three feet apart. The fog seemed to have a life of its own, and he was beginning to suspect it cackled at him behind his back as well. The place was always humming.

So now he sat, head in hands and elbows on knees, trying to focus long enough to think through his situation. He had barely enough food for another two days; it took no more than half a week to reach Castle Town riding at a relatively fast pace, and he had already been forced to ration everything. He had no idea how long he would be stuck here, and the already scant portions for each meal were quickly becoming not enough. He had to get out. He had no other options. Well, no other options that were pleasant to consider: starving to death or dying of dehydration had never been an appealing death for him.

It was then, stuck in a state of half-focus, that he first caught wind of it. Epona's ears pricked up, too, and he had to swiftly bound to his feet and grab hold of her reins to prevent her from galloping off in its direction.

Carried upon the wind to them came the sweet, clear notes of a wind instrument, pure and uplifting in the staccato rhythm of its melody. He drew up, enchanted, but forced himself to listen distantly for several minutes more. The staff of the beat repeated several times, each more exhilarating than the last. Finally, convinced he wasn't imagining it, he wove through the trees, listening hard at each hollow to pinpoint the source of the music.

Several times, as he steadily progressed through the forest he had to pause and assure himself he wasn't simply acting delusional. With each new clearing—and all were new; he made markings as he went, and each clearing brought no sign of any markings whatsoever—the music grew gradually louder, until he almost found it pounding under his feet.

Emerging from a hollow, he was greeted with an incredible sight. A rusted, worked gate stood open upon a small sea of green, bushes overgrown but beautiful in their natural growth lining the clearing. The foliage was perfect in their state of fragile splendor, almost too green to be natural. He moved beyond, noting that the area narrowed into some sort of hedge maze. He turned each corner, keeping a sharp ear for the music. He was definitely getting close; he could almost feel the sound burning brightly in his heart, now.

Though he had expected it, nothing leapt out at him from around each corner. The maze was deserted, and the empty air closed in like a shroud. At last he came to a grand, white marble staircase leading up, up, and he followed it without hesitation. He _could_ feel the music pounding in the ground, now, and as he crested the rise his breath was taken away.

Old, crumbling ruins dwarfed the small, enclosed space, striking in the faded white walls streaked with gray. Vines crawled here, there, crowding over the intricate designs of the architecture. The staircase that presented the front of the ruins had been broken off cleanly, and the rest of it lay nowhere to be seen. Instead, under a shaft of light that almost appeared aberrant in its singular intensity, a young girl with forest green hair and matching attire rested contentedly upon a stump. The wind instrument he had heard was held to her lips, and she blew softly into it; ankles crossed, eyes closed, a serene expression gracing her young but elegant features as she bounced along fluidly to the tune. He gaped at her.

The song went on for several moments, still resoundingly loud despite the breathiness of her playing. Link stood still as a statue, too engrossed in the scene before him to notice anything else. Epona snorted, and the charm was broken as if cut clean through with a knife. Link's awareness of possible danger returned to him in full force, and he stepped forward, intent upon getting the girl out of such a dangerous wood.

He stopped dead once more as she looked up. Sapphire eyes shone brightly as the song faded into nothingness, and she slowly lowed the instrument from her face. She smiled, a sweet, happy smile as her eyes filled with brimming tears. The ringing chime of innocence echoed from her mouth as she made to speak to him.

"Link…?"

And then she was gone; the clearing, the ruins, even the stairs, all gone with her. Link blinked several times, eyes hurting from the sudden change of his environment. Epona reared again, her terrors come back, and Link shushed her as he looked around. Hyrule Field opened up in a sweep of emerald turned brown before them, and Link looked back.

Shivers crawled up his spine like icy fingers, and goose bumps broke out along his skin. The girl was gone, just like the ghosts of the night before, and nothing left to show she had been there but his memory of her…

And a small, child-sized wind instrument, carved out of wood with a simple green design inlaid at the mouthpiece. A small branch stuck out, a single leaf peridot against the brown of decay. It looked brand new, but when he bent to touch it, it crumbled; chary remains swept off by a sudden gust of wind. The char wasn't the only thing the wind carried off.

"_But we'll always be friends, right? I hope when you play this, you'll think of me._"

The image seemed stuck line pinesap before his eyes, the teary blue eyes, the utter relief and childish love and warmth permanently imprinted on his soul. Her voice still reverberated in his ears, but that wasn't what bothered him.

She knew his name. And he had never seen her before in his life.

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**A/N: I love this chapter. I just…I love it. To **_**death**_**. I had to take a break from writing it halfway during the process, but it was well worth it.**

**Critiques, please; I think Beth and Talo were a bit off.**


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